Marooned
Each morning
you are surprised to see me,
as if I have been dropped into your living room
by an alien spacecraft.
Teleported down
to observe mankind.
We drink coffee, watch tv.
I fix your meals, wash your clothes
shower your frail frame
comb your thin hair.
In return, you teach me
how barren your world is.
How pointless
human life can be.
You show me that I was wrong.
Your world
does not revolve around a third rate star
in an obscure solar system.
And I think that maybe
you
are the alien.
About the author
Cindy Adame was born in Phoenix Arizona, but has spent most of her adult life in Bakersfield California. Recently retired, she has decided to pursue a lifelong passion to write. Being both a mother and grandmother, she has a rich source for her poetry and children’s books.
Other poems by Cindy Adame on Flashes:
Mom’s New Bag – by Cindy Adame
Books by Cindy Adame on Amazon
What would you do with one hundred shoes Abi see, Abi have, Abi do
